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The Great Bear
in Winter

She's not fond. She sometimes
cuffs you down about four
when the shadows have stretched
your plans to ribbons.
It's not right; you roll up cranky
several hours later
lost in deep snow, you'll never make tracks.
She's gone to the sky. And you're stuck,
not content to luxuriate as
a furry ball, feeding on your own fat
with that winter gift—can they really
manage all season in hollow trees?
You envy her steadiness. She
shines in her kingdom and you know
she'll elude you all night.

 

Mary Gilliland

172 Pearsall Place, Ithaca, NY 14850
607 273 6637
mg24@cornell.edu
[first publised in Stone Country 16, 3 (1989)]

 


from
Metaphysical Times
Volume VIII Number 3
Fall 2013



 

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